Birmingham
by Kitten Kisses
Summary: What could be more beautiful than perfection? A perfect world, a perfect life? Miroku reflects on the true meaning of a perfect and notso perfect life… [Slight MirokuSango hinted at]


**Birmingham**  
**By: Manna (Kitten Kisses)**

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**Note: **This was written…oh, a few years ago. I found it on a piece of paper in my desk. I remember writing it at work before shift start-up, but I had forgotten about it. Enjoy.

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_Perfection…_

Is it real? Can there truly be something in this world that would meet the criteria for being perfect?

What is perfection, though? Many believe it to be a utopia- where everybody is content, living their day-to-day lives in harmony with God, nature, and each other.

Is that possible- possible to achieve such a goal, to live with it, in it?

Most would say that, yes, it could be possible, given the chance, but only if mankind would straighten up their act and learn to love, be loved, and to drop selfish desires like greed and jealousy.

But surely, their sarcasm would get annoying, after awhile, and, bored of their negative attitude, the world would cease to care about whether or not a perfect world is indeed, achievable.

If you were to ask Miroku, the young monk that traveled with the half-demon InuYasha, and his group of rag-tag friends, so many years ago, you would most certainly get a different kind of answer.

"Perfection?" he would say, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Perfection is a state of mind."

A state of mind? How is that so?

The former monk wouldn't hesitate before answering, "We deem things perfect, or imperfect, by what other people tell us." He would smile, moving his hand around in front of him in the shape of an arc. "Just as a mother tells her baby not to touch the fire, it will burn them, they refuse to listen, and touch it anyway, and find out that she was right- _because it does burn_. Afterwards, they listen to her. As we grow older, most of us don't think to question what others tell us.

But, being the way we, as people, are, we have our own opinions- partly because we hope to 'separate from the pack', so to speak, and partly because we believe that what we were taught is either completely, or at least partially, true."

So, must everyone have the same opinion, then? Since we all come from parents, who came from parents…all the way back to the first two people, shouldn't we find that what they taught their children, was taught until it got to us, therefore giving us all opinions- not just on what is and isn't perfect, but on what is and isn't right, or what is and isn't beautiful- that match one another's?

"Not necessarily," he would answer, calmly, a patient expression on his face. "As humans, generally speaking of course, we tend to want to change things. Children always rebel against their parents at one point or another, for one reason or another. They want to be their own, individual person."

It will always be this way?

He would smile, then, and reply, "Of course. The world would never agree on a utopia, on perfection itself, so we have to find out on our own what is, and isn't perfect."

So it's different for everyone, then?

"Oh, certainly." His smile would fade a little, and his eyes would glaze over, as if he was remembering a past long gone. "For me, perfection was gazing into the dark eyes of the woman I loved- and still love to this day. Holding her near me, and knowing that she would never leave, except in death. She, herself was not perfect, and neither was I- our lives were not perfect, our children were not perfect, and the world was not perfect… but the two of us together completed a puzzle that, in its entirety, was perfect to both of us."

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Just a little…thing. I don't know what type of writing this is, really. I can only vaguely recall writing it. Does anybody remember the song, "Paint me a Birmingham", by Tracy Lawrence? It's a beautiful song, but right before I wrote this, before I worked in a factory, and I worked at Subway, this song would come on the radio a lot. People that were buying subs would ask me about it, because nobody knew what the song meant. I got this question at least a few times a week.

_"Can you paint me a Birmingham?  
Make it look just the way I planned;  
Little house on the edge of town,  
Front porch goin' all the way around…"_

He is talking about what he believes is a "perfect" world. In an "if I had all of this, everything would be perfect again", sense.

Constructive criticism is always appreciated, and I would love feedback of any kind.

Thank you for reading!


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